


Just Be Yourself

by tcwordsmith



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't have to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Be Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pnelmatirian](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pnelmatirian).



> This was a birthday present for my friend pnelmatirian because she's awesome.

“What are you doing in my living room, Holmes?” Bell drops his keys on the counter and sets the bag of groceries next to them.

“I’m perusing your bookcase, you haven’t much of a selection,” Sherlock replies without looking up from rearranging the books in front of him.

Marcus sighs and stalks over, taking the book from Sherlock and putting it back on the shelf, “I can see that, I mean, how did you get in here?  The door was locked, I checked.” He scowls and crosses his arms.

Sherlock reaches around him to pluck another book off the shelf and put it somewhere else, “Well obviously I picked the lock and then relocked the door once I was inside. You really should invest in at the very least a rudimentary alarm system; anyone could get in.”  He selects several other books and places them in different locations on the shelf. Marcus somehow ends up with three books in his hands and has to finally get out of the way.

“Holmes, stop rearranging my damn bookshelves, no one asked you. And don’t pick my locks either. The only person breaking into my apartment is you. I could have you arrested for breaking and entering, you know,” he puts the books on the couch and stalks back into the kitchen.

“Yes, well, next time perhaps your B and E artist won’t have such benign intentions as to improve the quality of your shelving system,” Sherlock says, abandoning the bookshelves and following Marcus into the kitchen.

“Don’t rearrange my cabinets,” Marcus demands as he unloads the groceries.

“I shouldn’t dream of it. I already took the liberty before you returned from the market,” Sherlock replies, whisking the bread and the box of crackers off the counter.  He puts them in a cupboard Marcus would never put them in.

“Sherlock, for god’s sake fucking—” he can’t take it. He thought he could take it and he just can’t. “You can’t just rearrange my stuff, Sherlock,” Marcus growls gripping the edge of the counter on either side of Sherlock.

Sherlock turns in place and stares levelly at Marcus, “I wouldn’t have to if it weren’t so disorderly to begin with.  Your kitchen things are in cabinets with no rhyme or reason, presumably because you never spend much time in the kitchen and therefore feel no need to keep things in easily accessible locations.  Your books are all tossed on the shelves without a care for any kind of order, except perhaps the order in which you last tossed them.  I fear for the state of your facilities and bedroom.”

“You wish you could see the state of my bedroom,” Marcus rolls his eyes.

“No, one wishes to do things one only hopes he might do. I look forward to evaluating the state of your bedroom, Mr. Bell,” Sherlock says.

Marcus lets go of the counter and returns to putting away his groceries, where he prefers to put them. “I don’t need a distraction, Sherlock. Andre’s out of the hospital and he’s doing just fine. Remember? We found him that new place last week?” He folds the linen bag and sticks it under the sink before turning to look at Sherlock again.

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow, “Do you fancy yourself the only one in need of a good distraction every now and again, Mr. Bell?” He reaches across the small space and hooks two fingers into Marcus’s belt loop to pull him closer.

“You don’t have to break into my apartment and rearrange my stuff if you need a distraction, Sherlock,” Marcus says, stepping forward to stay balanced.

“I suppose not,” Sherlock says, running his hands up Marcus’s arms and clasping them behind his neck, “But I find you’re more aggressive after I’ve thoroughly aggravated you.”

Marcus rolls his eyes and settles his hands on Sherlock’s waist, “Sherlock, I promise, you don’t have to break into my apartment and rearrange my shit to aggravate me.  You do that all on your own.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you?” Sherlock smirks.

“Damn right I’m charming,” Marcus grins.


End file.
